


Mother (Doesn't) Know Best

by mechatitan



Category: JeanMarco - Fandom, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nerd!Marco, Underage Drinking, punk!jean, teenagers being teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8698510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechatitan/pseuds/mechatitan
Summary: Marco Bodt's life is being controlled by his perfection driven mother and he wants change- desperately.So desperately that he's willing to date Trost High School's most infamous punk- Jean KirchsteinOr fake date, that is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi All, I began writing this YEEAAARRS ago back when i was a senior in high school myself just like jean and marco will be in this fic :p (I'm a junior in college now for anyone wondering RIP)
> 
> I haven't really been active in the fandom in a while but I still honestly love this fic? Like I'm a total sucker for fake dating au's and its the longest one I've ever written. I'm really hoping any response to this will encourage me to finish the rest.
> 
> so thank u for reading :>

"Ugh, darn her!" Marco Bodt yelled, plopping himself down onto his bed in exasperation. Looking carefully around the room, Marco saw plain off-white walls that had no decorations. A standard dresser sat across from him, with text books neatly stacked on the top of it. A desk sat on the adjacent side, looking organized and brightly lit from the plain lamp sitting on its corner. When he looked down, he saw a perfectly made bed with off-white bed sheets and comforter that were probably bought on sale at WalMart.

He hated studying so much. He hated how his room didn't properly reflect who he was. He hated his mother for forcing him into being the perfect child all his life.  _ He despised off-white with a burning passion. _

Sitting up, he looked down at himself. Modest khaki's, brown belt, argyle sweater vest over  _ a freaking off-white shirt.  _ In a fit of rage, he ripped off his clothes, flinging them around the room haphazardly. A loud crash broke him out of it and he realized his sweater had knocked over the lamp on his desk.

"Marco! What are you doing?!" His mother's voice sounded from the hall.

"N-nothing, there was a bug! I got it!." Marco quickly lied, not wanting his mother to walk in on him wearing nothing but off-white cotton boxers. What a disgusting color for boxers.

He rolled his eyes and plopped himself back onto the bed. He surveyed the room again, the only changes being the slight mess from his clothes.

He needed change. Drastic change. He needed to mess up his life so bad that his mom wouldn't be able to force him to conform back to normal.

But how?

* * *

 

The answer came to him clearly a couple days later.

He was sitting in his AP Biology class, taking notes studiously while Professor Hanji rattled off what sounded like nonsense. It was a usual day in AP Bio. Marco was sitting next to his friend, Mikasa. They'd been friends for a long time and got along great and other than a short time in junior high, they'd always hung out consistently. 

And then it hit him. Literally. He felt a sharp, quick pain on the back of his head as something dense collided with it. Whatever it was fell into the space between his and Mikasa's seat.

First he looked around to see if anyone saw that. All eyes were ahead as Hanji accidentally broke the classroom skeleton. Then he looked down. One of those paper footballs every dumb guy used to play with in middle school was lying innocently on the floor. After he picked it up, he looked around to find the perpetrator. 

Jean Kirschtein was lounging behind him, giving him a sheepish smile. Marco could count on his fingers how many times he's talked to this guy. It started around the second grade when his mom would take him aside while leaving school and say, "Don't associate with that Kirschtein kid, he's no good."

And like a self-fulfilling prophecy, here he was, 9 years, 6 piercings (that he could see) and a couple tattoos later. All the guy ever seemed to wear was black band t-shirts and jeans way too tight for him. His dyed undercut was often times styled in a mohawk, but sometimes he wore it down over his face. On days like the latter, Marco often thought that maybe he wouldn't be half bad looking without all the piercings and hair gel. Attractiveness aside, Jean Kirschtein was exactly what his parents feared- a delinquent child with questionable pastimes and interests.

"It was supposed to go to Mikasa." Jean was whispering to him. A light blush appeared on his face, and Marco realized with a start what the paper contained.

He blushed as well, kinda embarrassed for the sake of everyone in this situation

and turned to give it to Mikasa. She wasn't keen on class disruptions so was probably trying her hardest to ignore them.

Tapping her shoulder, he slide the paper in front of her.

"From Jean." he whispered, giving her a pitying look.

Mikasa carefully inspected the paper, opening it to reveal its contents. Marco had turned back towards the front of the classroom, but his eyes strayed with curiosity to the events unfolding beside him.

He saw Mikasa turn towards Jean, and with the most blank, unforgiving expression, she shook her head back and forth.

A frustrated sigh sounded from behind him. He frowned feeling kinda bad for the guy. But if Mikasa didn't like him, then there was no helping it.

Plus, Mikasa's parents would  _ freak out _ , if they ever- 

His thoughts began to go into overdrive as a plan quickly developed. 

_ This was his chance. _

* * *

 

The bell rang, signaling the end of fourth block. All the kids rushed down the hallway and towards the doors to freedom. This was usually when Marco would accompany Mikasa to meet up with their friends Armin and Eren. This involved going against the flow of traffic and away from the doors.

Today Marco only had eyes for one guy.

"Listen, I gotta go home early, so I'll see you tomorrow." He lied, starting to drift away from his friend. "College stuff, ya know." Being high school seniors, it was a pretty good excuse.

Mikasa looked concerned, but nodded and waved to him. "See ya."

Marco turned and quickly locked his eyes onto Jean's head. Thank god today was a mohawk day, otherwise it would've been hard to keep track of him.

Weaving through the crowd (which he got a couple weird looks for), he trailed the strange punk kid, waiting until they were out of the school and going down the sidewalk to make his move. He sped up, almost breaking into a run.

"Hey, Jean!" Marco called out.

Jean turned around, confusion plastered blatantly across his face. The expression became more confused when he realized who was calling out to him.

"Hey…man." Jean replied, not sure if he could address him so casually. When he caught up, Jean tried to look bored as he walked next to Marco. "Thanks for delivering that note today."

"Yeah, sure." He felt a bit of shock, not expecting a thanks. "Sorry about…" He trailed off.

The punk guy shrugged, giving him a painful smile. "Next time…"

"Yeah…about that…" Marco started, biting his lip nervously. A hand went up to rub the back of his neck, an age long tick of his. "I could help you, ya know?"

Jean's face immediately lit up into a smile, transforming his usually sharp facial features into something more soft. Marco watched as his lip ring bounced up and down as he tried to hold back a huge smile. Suddenly the his body language was much more open. "Would you really be willing to do that, holy shit man. That's so nice of-"

Realization came to him, and everything about him became guarded once again. "You fucking want something from me, right?" Jean eyed Marco with suspicion.

Marco cringed. "Yeah. Listen, I will help you get Mikasa, if you go out with me." He squeaked a bit at the end, watching confusion appear on the other guys face once again. "Or at least pretend to."

Silence descended on them. Marco could see the gears moving in Jean's brain as he tried to comprehend what was just said. Heat began to radiate out of every pore in his skin as he waited for Jean to make a response.

Jean's lips formed to say something, but he hesitated, making a weird hollow sound until a light, "Why?" was wrangled out of his lips.

"Because-I-really-hate-how-strict-my-mother-is-and-I-want-to-rebel-against-her!!" Marco stated, way too quickly. Honestly, he just wanted to get this conversation over with. This was not going well.

His embarrassment level rose when Jean doubled over and began laughing way too hard. They both stopped walking, Marco staring down at the punk in indignation. 

"Woo!" Jean breathed, righting himself and gently wiping a tear from his eye. Marco noticed that Jean had fair skin that turned red really easily. "This is probably the most cliche thing I've ever heard…How do you expect Mikasa to fall for me if I'm with you?"

Marco smirked. "Easy. If you're with me, you get to hang out with Mikasa more. She'll get to know you, maybe even like you! And you'll also have a recommendation from someone she trusts." He nodded, watching as a look of wonder appeared on his face.

"You gotta fucking deal, Freckles!" Jean grinned and clapped Marco on the back.

He frowned at the nickname, but a feeling of relief washed through him. This could work.

* * *

 

"Now?"

"Now." Marco adjusted the phone on his ear. He clicked his 'change relationship' status. It was Facebook official. Marco Bodt was dating Jean Kirchstein.

Of course they waited an appropriate amount of time to make the move. Jean was impatient about it, but Marco had insisted on following plan. He always had a plan. But if Jean had started dating Marco  _ right after _ he'd asked out Mikasa, then he would've seemed inauthentic. There needed to be recovery time for this to be perfect.

Marco crossed it off the list of things he needed to do, smiling at the move forward. Immediately, notifications started to appear at the little digital globe on his Facebook.

**Connie Springer: woah holy shit dude!!!**

One of Jean's punk friends. Connie was notoriously stupid, but he seemed nice enough.

**Armin Arlert: Wow, congratulations guys!**

Armin, the ever supporting friend. Marco was sure he'd be getting a couple concerned texts later though.

**Eren Jaeger: literally what the fuck?**

Knew he'd catch some flack from Eren. Jean and him weren't on the best of terms. Something about a elementary school field trip accident involving horses.

"Eren needs to hop off our dicks." Jean cut into his thoughts. He'd almost forgotten he was on the phone.

"That's vulgar." Marco complained, closing his browser and whirling his computer chair away from the desk.

"Only a goody-two-shoes would say that. Get used to it." 

Marco grumbled incoherently. Jean had a point. He needed to get used to such things if he was going to properly rebel against his parents. Speaking of which, his mom should be doing her routine check-up of his Facebook at this point.

"You know my mom is about to flip her lid?" Marco asked, kind of excited. He'd never done anything bad in his recent memory. One time he got a B on a Math quiz, but he wasn't sure if that counted.

A rough laugh came through the line. "Don't die before you fulfill your end of the deal, Bodt."

"I'll try not to." Marco giggled with anticipation and said his goodbyes to Jean.

And now, to wait.

And the wait didn't take long. It started with a horrified scream.

"MARCO SALVATORE BODT!" 

The middle name came out. This was serious. A loud procession of footsteps could be heard approaching his door. It slammed open, with a sickening thud to his poor off-white wall.

"What is the meaning of this, Marco? Are you dating that- that..delinquent?!" 

He'd done it now. She was in hysterics with tears falling down her face from bulging, wide eyes. His mother's freckled face that was so much like his own, was contorted with distress.

"Uh…yes." He announced awkwardly, seeing no other response to the situation.

A surprised silence ensued. 

"Since when? Since when have you even talked to him? Since when have you associated with those types of people? Since when have you been GAY?!"

Marco just shrugged. "He makes me happy, mom."

Mrs. Bodt looked surprise. "Were you not happy before?"

He just looked up at her defiantly. "No."

That left his mother blabbing like a fish, her mouth open and closing several times in an attempt to find words. Eventually she just closed the door, probably going off to confer with various parenting help blogs.

Marco smiled. 

And this was just the beginning.

* * *

 

"M-marco!! What is this all of a sudden?" 

It was the morning after the big reveal of his and Jean's relationship, and he was almost out the door to go to school.

…But not quite.

"What?" He asked, trying to seem genuinely confused, but he knew it was coming.

His mom looked down at him in utter surprise, sputtering over her words. "Y-your shirt isn't tucked in…And it's not buttoned? What happened to your usual wardrobe?"

The next thing on Marco's rebellion plan list was to create a style of his own. To start off with, he discarded his sweater vest and khakis. He now wore plain jeans and a button down over a t-shirt. It was casual. Way too casual for what he usually wore.

"I felt like doing something different." For a second he actually felt bad for his mother, having seen the apparent concern in her face.

_ Stay strong, Marco. You can't pull out now. _

"Is this because of that Kirschtein kid?" Mrs. Bodt asked, frantically searching her son's face for a sign.

Yep, feeling bad was officially over. Marco sighed. "No, mom. I'm being myself."

He left her at the doorstep with that, holding securely onto his backpack straps. It's not that he  _ wanted _ to cause his mom this much distress, but she needed to realize that she can't control him forever. Marco had tried to talk to her countless times before, but she would have none of it. Because " _ mother knows best _ ", to quote Tangled (one of his favorite movies). 

Feeling accomplished, he set off to school. This day would definitely be interesting between his new relationship status and new wardrobe. His friends and classmates wouldn't know what to say, his teachers would be concerned, the janitors that he usually struck up conversation with would even be hit with surprise.

Thought it was him who was struck with surprise first. As he neared the gates to his school, he immediately recognized the familiar spiky-haired figure leaning casually against the fence. Jean pushed off the fence when Marco got closer, a strange look on his face as his eyes roved down Marco's person.

"Don't look at me like that, it makes me feel self-conscious…" Marco blushed. What was this guy even looking at. They were dating, but they weren't  _ really dating _ . There will definitely be none of  _ that _ .

A large smirk cracked his face. "You are literally the biggest virgin I've ever met. I'm technically dating the biggest virgin I've ever met." He took a moment to run both his hands on his face, looking up to the sky with a new look of desperation. "Where have I gone wrong…"

Marco pouted and crossed his arms in indignation. "Where have  _ you _ gone wrong? I'm technically dating the most _ crude _ person I've ever met. Where have  _ I  _ gone wrong?!"

"Hey, you asked me to do this." Jean pointed out, laughing a bit at Marco's choice of words for him. "And since I'm getting something out of this, I'm going to help you. First we start with your outfit."

"My outfit?" He looked down at himself again. "What's wrong with it? I think I look cool."

The punk snorted loudly, eyes again flicking up and down Marco's body. "Your jeans look like your mom rocked them in the mid-90s. The sneakers look like your dad owned them in the mid-90s. Literally who even wears sketchers anymore? Your shirt is fine, but it has no personality to it whatsoever. The glasses can stay: that style is actually in right now with hipsters. But don't even get me started on your hair."

"Who are you, Clinton Kelly?" Marco's pout deepened. Is that what he really looked like? Leaving the house this morning, he'd been pretty confident that he'd managed to create a solid style with what he had in his closet. Now, he wasn't so sure...

"Man, I wish I was that fine…" He bit his lip and shook his head. "Clinton's fine ass aside, I know what's popular with people our age. Unlike you. So follow my advice and you'll do fine. C'mon." Jean began to head off down the sidewalk and passed the gates of the school.

Marco followed, but hesitated in front of the school. He looked over, noticing the crowd of students heading inside. The bell should be ringing any moment.

"Jean. School's about to start though!" He doubted the punk had forgotten, but one of them had to be reasonable.

He whirled around, still walking backwards. "Yeah, so? Marco, if you're gonna play the part, you can't half ass it. Go big or go home, man! Skipping school for one day won't hurt.” With that, he spun back around and kept going.

Marco glanced nervously back at the school. Jean won't notice until it was too late if he ran inside now. But no one would be able to stop him from skipping school at this point either.

He took a step, hesitated, then kept going at full speed. The bell rang with a couple straggling students running in desperately trying to get to class on time. 

Marco Bodt was not one of them.

* * *

 

"Alright Freckled Virgin, we are going to do some serious shopping today. You got money?" Jean and Marco were stepping off the bus, long forgotten backpacks burdening their shoulders.

"I have a cash card…it has a couple hundred on it from chores." He answered nervously. It had taken a while for Marco to calm down after his decision. Guilt had almost consumed him and if Jean hadn't stopped him, he would've gotten off at the first stop and run back to school.

He was slowly getting used to the feeling of betraying everyone who expected him to end up at school everyday. But it was still overwhelming.

"That'll be good. C'mon."

He followed Jean like a lost puppy, anxiety shooting through him every time someone gave them a strange look. What if they could tell we skipped school. What if they tell? What if we get arrested?!

That was a thing, right? Mall cops were a thing? The more Marco looked around, the more he realized that the mall security officers were just lounging around disinterestedly. 

Due to all his worrying, he didn't notice where they were heading until they were already in the store. Dark colors and gloomy music surrounded him. Weird graphic tees were tacked up on the wall beside him. Marco was pretty sure he saw some horrendous article of clothing made out of fishnet too.

_ What was this hell? _

A teal haired employee with heavy make-up looked up at them from behind the counter. "Hey, welcome to Hot Topic," she called. "Ask me if you need anything."

Jean waved and said thanks, pulling an unresponsive Marco to the guys section of the store.

The movement against his arm pulled him back to reality. "Y-you want me to buy stuff from here?!"

Jean cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah…" He noticed Marco's culture shock. "Listen, some individual things aren't that bad. It's just if you put all the weird shit together, you'll end up looking like, well- me."

Marco still didn't snap out of it.

The punk suddenly pushed him. "Fine, I'll take you to American Eagle after this, they sometimes have decent stuff…You didn't fucking hear me say that, though."

He snapped out of it at that. American Eagle was a name he knew, at least.

Jean wandered off to look through a stand of shirts, leaving Marco to stand awkwardly next to a case of wicked makeup and nail polish. He glanced over at it, but then quickly moved himself, worried that Jean would think he was interested in such things.

Marco ended up by the pants section, which most of was relatively harmless. He scanned the shelves, eyes catching on the labels. Skinny, boot cut, low rise, regular? What did all this mean? He cautiously picked up a pair, letting them dangling in front of him.

"Will these cut off my circulation?" He held them up for Jean to see.

A bark of laughter escaped the punks lips. "Not to your legs, but I can't say the same about your dick."

Marco furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, deciding to ignore the vulgar language this time.

Jean coughed. "It was a joke. You'll be fine. Is that your size?"

He looked down at the tag, seeing two number there and shrugged. "I don't know."

"You don't know your pant size? How did you buy pants?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh, I didn't."

Jean deadpanned, obviously passing his judgment on Marco. "Okay, momma's boy. Life lesson time. Pants have two parts to the size. The waist and the inseam."

Jean placed the shirts he was carrying back on the rack for the time being. "Turn around, I'm going to check the size of your pants."

Marco blanched. "You're what?!"

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna do anything weird." He huffed, motioning for Marco to hurry up. 

Hesitantly, Marco turned around. For some reason, nerves exploded in his stomach. He almost jumped when he felt Jean's hands twist the back of his pants up.

"Hmp."

"W-what?" Marco turned back around, his face probably 10 shades of red.

"Your inseam should be right, but the waist is probably wrong." Jean shuffled through a tower of pants until he found the numbers he was looking for. “This should be okay.”

Marco took the pants and sighed, glad that it was over.

Then, "Also, nice tighty whities." 

Thirty minutes later, Marco still had not recovered from Jean's comment. That, paired with his general lack of clothing knowledge, left him with two pairs of pants and a shirt.

Jean ended up with a pile of various articles of clothing, all of which barely fit in his arms.

"Alright, to the changing rooms!" Marco followed the punk into the changing rooms like a lost puppy, feeling bad about his own lack of clothes, because it was Jean who had done all the work.

Jean plopped all of the clothes into a corner and shoved Marco into the cramped stall after. "Come out when you try stuff on, you have to have my approval!"

Marco huffed and rolled his eyes. "All right, fashion guru."

Jean mumbled something that kinda sounded like: "I should have my own damn TV show" but Marco didn't care enough to ask him to repeat it.

And that's how Marco Bodt ended up trying on clothes that old him never would've dreamed of wearing while asking the fashion advice of someone he never thought he'd be talking to at the exact time he was supposed to be quietly sitting in his calculus class. All while ignoring the five hundred phone calls from his mother. This time, he only felt a twinge of guilt.

He quickly stripped and picked up a pair of ripped black skinny jeans that Jean had picked out. Marco felt a mixture of apprehension and doubt. They looked awfully…tight. Would his legs be okay?

He suddenly shook himself. 'Remember why you're here, Marco!' He thought to himself. 'Change!'

He managed to get the jeans on after his mental pep talk and chose a red plaid shirt to go with it. Looking at himself in the mirror, he saw…himself, but different. This was not how he imagined himself in his mind's eye.

Marco cracked open the stall door, hesitantly inching out. "I dunno about this…" 

Jean waved impatiently at him. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

When he managed to get over himself and come fully out of the stall, a look of awe and surprise washed over Jean's features.

"Turn around." The punk ordered, twirling a finger at him.

He furrowed his eyebrows, but did as he was told. 

"…Bae's got a booty. Who would've known…" 

Marco jumped back into the changing room, peeking around the door, sure that his face was probably a completely different color.

"Don't look at my butt! And what did you call me?!" 

Jean, who had been sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall opposite the stall, was now lying on the floor, almost incapacitated with ill-contained laughter.

"Calm down, it's a…term of endearment, if you will."

Marco glared, unsure whether he should feel violated or  _ super  _ violated. Surprisingly, he kinda felt good about himself instead.

Not that he'd ever tell Jean that.

And that's basically how the entire thing went. Marco would come out of the stall in different outfits and Jean would add increasingly strange comments.

"All right, off the American Eagle!" Jean led the way out of Hot Topic an hour later, having dispensed the two bags of clothing on Marco. They had spent a significant amount on the clothes, but not as much as they could have. Marco had gotten a couple t-shirts including a plaid button up and two pairs of jeans (including the first ones he tried on…).

On Jean's ardent recommendation, they stopped at Journey's and bought a pair of black Van's and a pair of Converse.

American Eagle was much more agreeable to Marco, though Jean looked entirely out of place. It seemed like the punk almost begrudgingly looked at clothing.

"It's alright…" He'd mumble and pick something up.

Marco chuckled lightly, looking through the pants for something that wasn't so…skinny. He'd finally found a good dark tan pair when a loud gasp from somewhere behind him. He whipped around in surprise, having never heard a noise quite like that come out of the punk.

"I've been looking for one of these!" He was holding up a red beanie and was trying to get it on his head while his other hand was preoccupied with a pile of clothing.

He chortled and set down the pair of pants on the corner of a nearby display.

"Here, let me." He plucked the hat from Jean's fingers, reaching over the other guys head to slide the hat on. Marco noticed for the first time that he was actually taller than the other guy. He backed up to judge the view, almost laughing at the quizzical look on Jean's face.

"I look fucking hot in red, don't I?" He smirked, giving a little head nod in Marco's direction.

"You do." Marco agreed. The beanie didn't really fit his usual image, but Jean really did look good in it.

Extreme surprise and embarrassment crossed over his facial features, but after that Jean couldn't stop smiling and he even hummed lightly while browsing for clothes. His shopping didn't seem begrudging after that, exclaiming that several articles of clothing were 'pretty rad' or something like that.

On their way to the changing room, Marco gave him a cheeky grin.

"You like American Eagle, don't you Jean?"

"S-shut up!" The angry pout returned.

* * *

 

Marco spent way more at American Eagle than at Hot Topic. He'd even say he had a solid wardrobe now, though Jean claimed it needed more work.

"We gotta go here!" Jean exclaimed as they passed a hair salon.

"Why? My hair is fine."

He got a dubious look in response. "That side part makes you look like a fucking dweeb."

"I-it does?" Marco asked self-consciously, patting his hair tentatively.

"Yeah, you look like a prep school bastard. You go to public school, man. Time to look like teenage trash." Jean grinned maliciously, like he was the leader of this category.

Marco was unsure, but let himself be dragged into the brightly lit business. A lady greeted them and said, ”Follow me.” pleasantly.

Since there was no one else line, Marco was sat down immediately. He jumped in surprise when Jean practically threw himself in the chair next to his.

"What are you doing?" He hadn't said anything about getting his haircut.

"I was thinking about going lighter on the top. What do you think?" He scrutinized his imagine in the mirror as the salon ladies prepared for the unnecessary pre-shampoo thing they do.

"I dunno, you're the fashion guru, remember?"

He nodded. "I think I'm gonna do it."

The salon ladies came up and Jean instructed them on what to do on his hair and said, "Do something that looks cool" while referring to Marco.

This couldn't go wrong, right?

An hour later Jean and Marco walked out of the hair salon, looking clean cut. Jean’s new hair was a shorter undercut that was dark on the bottom and a sandy color on the top. Marco had a similar haircut, but the color was the same (thank god).

He had to admit, Jean looked better with his new hair, especially since the salon lady hadn’t styled it in his usual punk fashion. It was just slightly styled up in a fashionable way.

“I’d say this was a productive day, eh?” Jean nudged him with a bag laden arm. He looked satisfied by the progress, so Marco could only assume he’d look really cool at school tomorrow.

“Yeah, I can’t wait for Monday! If I make it to school alive, that is…” He remarked, suddenly remembering the missed phone calls from his mother.

“Ah, it’ll be fine. Mothers are all talk when it comes to shit like that.” Jean rolled his eyes. “She’ll love the new you as much as the old you.”

Marco smiled. “Yeah…You’re right.”

* * *

 

He wasn’t so optimistic after the hour long lecture he received from his mother when he arrived home. Her face was lined with tear tracks and blotchy red patches consumed her cheeks.

Of course, after the whole “DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED I WAS YOUNG MAN” line came the guilt trips. “THINK ABOUT YOUR FUTURE” she’d said. 

Marco shrugged. “It was just one day,” he’d said innocently, thinking about what Jean would say.

And that’s how he ended up grounded. For an amount of time his mother was too mad to determine. Great.

As he tried to forget his worries by burrowing his head into his pillow, the sound of a Facebook message made him spring up. He climbed into his computer chair, squinting at the screen.

**Jean: hows the damage?**

**Marco: I’m grounded. For a while.**

**Jean: man that sucks**

**Marco: Yeah. :( It was worth it, though.**

**Jean: hell ya it was. and it definitely will make a diff @ the party 2nite**

**Marco: Excuse me?**

**Jean: ur invited to connies house party. cuz ur w/ me ;)**

Marco rolled his eyes. Okay, unnecessary wink face usage.

**Jean: cmon it’ll be fun.my friends arent THAT weird i promise**

**Marco: Jean, I’m grounded. My mom won’t let me go anywhere.**

**Jean: then sneak out dummy!!**

**Marco: But my mom would kill me.**

**Jean: pls ur still alive an u skipped school today. more than i expected tbh**

**Marco: >:(**

**Jean: kidding!!! do you wanna rebel or not?**

That’s right. That’s what this whole thing was about. Rebelling. So why was he still hesitating and making excuses? Why did it feel like if he disappointed his mother, the world would end?

**Marco: Jean…**

**Marco: How do you deal with disappointing someone?**

It was a couple seconds before he got a response.

**Jean: just be u man and itll all work out in the end**

* * *

 

Marco looked up some advice online just to be extremely safe. Sneaking out of the house was something he’d never done before. He’d never even THOUGHT about doing it.

Thank god wikihow was a thing that existed or he’d be lost. Step number one: find a door/window to sneak out of. Marco eyed the window across that room that he knew he could open and force the screen up from the countless times he aired out his room during the spring.

Check.

Step two: if your parents check on you during the night, put something in your place to make it look like you are sleeping. He fluffed up the two head pillows and the long body pillow that was supposed to be him and tucked them under the blanket.

Check.

Step number three: before you leave, make sure your parents are asleep. Marco had heard his mother call a begrudging “Goodnight!” almost an hour ago. She should be asleep by now.

Check.

Step four, well step four didn’t apply because he didn’t have any siblings that he knew of so he just skipped it. Everything was in place. He was wearing his new clothes and styled his new hair. This was the beginning of a new Marco.

**To: Jean Kirschtein**

**Hey, I’m read to leave.**

He locked his phone and sat on his bed while waiting for a text back. His knee bounced up and down nervously. Marco was scared out of his mind, but he knew this was good progress for him. Life experience, something he lacked a lot of. 

He absentmindedly wondered what the party would be like. And what about Jean’s friends? Would they be doing...illegal things?

The phone buzzed, almost scaring him half to death.

**From: Jean Kirschtein**

**im down the block in a red mustang**

Marco felt butterflies in his stomach as he eased the window and screen open, going slow as to not make a sound. He made sure to land in between the bushes and the side of his house, but he was still afraid all the rattling leaves would make too much noise.

He closed the screen so no bugs got into his room and surveyed the scene in front of him. His neighborhood was dead quiet, with a few lights being the only sign of life. Going forward tentatively, he squeezed through the bushes. Once past, he ran from his side yard and down the sidewalk to where he knew Jean would be.

He looked back every so often to make sure his mother wasn’t somehow following behind. One last look before he rounded the corner and made for the waiting red mustang.

“Get in loser, we’re going partying!” Jean yelled through the rolled down window.

“Shhh!” Marco shushed him, frantically getting into the front seat beside him. “What if you wake her up!”

“Please, your house is all the way over there.” Jean rolled his eyes. “Nothing's gonna happen, don’t worry.”

Marco calmed down a small amount, but his eyes still strayed to the sidewalk like he expected his mother to round the corner any second.

Of course nothing happened, and Jean pulled away from the curb and drove down the street without incident.

While Marco was still going through post nervous nervousness, Jean turned up the music and started jamming out to the harsh, screaming words.

Marco held his hands to his ears, making a disgusted cringing face. “How can you listen to this?!” He yelled over the music.

Jean just ignored him and continued to scream along to the music, even using the steering wheel as a drum at times (which made Marco extremely nervous). His nerves transformed into pure fear as Jean sped through yellow lights and ran stop signs.

By the time Jean jolted to a stop behind a beat up truck, he’d gone dizzy from holding his breath. The assault on Marco’s ears only stopped when Jean pulled the keys from the ignition.

They both looked at each other.

“Are you sure you have your license?”

“License? What’s that?”

Jean laughed loudly at the look of terror on Marco’s face and got out of the car. He saw the other boy slide across the hood of his car in one quick jump as he sat shell shocked in the front seat.

Marco’s door was wrenched open and a hand extended to him. 

“ _ Monsieur. _ ”

He snapped out of it, taking the warm hand and lifting himself out of the seat. Jean closed the car door and raced for the house, dragging Marco behind. Loud music (which was thankfully not all screaming) could be heard playing clearly, like there was a stereo installed somewhere outside. How Connie avoided being reported to the cops was beyond him.

The door was assaulted with a couple heavy knocks by Jean’s free hand. He doubted anyone would even hear the knocks, but waited patiently. A solid minute went by.

“Wow, it’s really hot outside.” Marco commented, fanning his shirt with the hand that was not claimed by Jean.

“You think?” He shrugged. “I thought it was quite nice.”

Marco was outright sweating at this point and it was kind of gross. Maybe it was nerves. He couldn’t stop thinking about how gross and clammy his hands must feel when he usually wouldn’t care. Was he sick?

He didn’t have much time to figure it out before the door was swung open. A horrible smell came wafting out, something like beer, pizza, and some other weird smell Marco wasn’t familiar with.

“Ahh, it’s the happy couple!” Connie exclaimed, a lopsided grin. “Come on in, mi amigos!” He gestured with a beer inside, where a bunch of people were either sitting or dancing wildly.

They entered the house, Marco more reluctantly than Jean. It was all so different, dark, and unfamiliar. The sounds were new, the people were ones he didn’t recognize and he didn’t know what he should be doing. So instead of awkwardly wandering, he took advantage of Jean’s hold on him and stayed close by. Like, really close by. So close that he caught a strong waft of cologne, which was actually comforting compared to the rest of the new smells.

Jean led him to the kitchen. At this point it was more like the pizza and beer storage room. There wasn’t a clean spot in the room, so Jean just picked up some beer and pizza, freeing Marco’s hand for the first time since he’d gotten out of the car.

Suddenly he felt vulnerable and cold, nervousness closing in on him. He inched forward towards Jean’s back, grabbing ahold of the end of his shirt. Looking around, he only saw drunk looking teens lounging around or people rabidly making out.

He tightened his grip on Jean’s shirt, like it was the lifeline to safety and comfort. 

“Woah, what’s up?”

Marco tore his eyes from the couple making out in the corner and found himself way too close to Jean’s face. The other guy had tried to turn around with pizza and beer in hand, twisting his shirt in the process. Bare skin peeked out, making Marco snap his hand away.

“You okay, man?” There was a look of genuine concern on Jean’s face. “Let’s go somewhere less crowded.”

Marco nodded, glad for the reprieve. They didn’t get far, though.

“I KNOW THAT VOICE ANYWHERE!” A tall, lanky girl threw herself at Jean, giving him a rough half hug. Marco recognized her from one part of the kissing couple in the corner of the room. The other half, someone who happened to look like a pretty blonde angel, walked up beside her.

“Hey, Ymir…” Jean seemed a little less than enthusiastic. “Right now is not a good time, but…-”

“Oh, shit! Is this your new boy toy?”

Ymir latched onto him roughly, getting really close to his face. The smell of alcohol was so strong that Marco almost gagged. 

“Actually he’s my boyfriend, not-”

“He’s hot!” Ymir let go of him and latched this time onto his girlfriend. “He looks kinda innocent, though. I’m sure that’ll change soon.” Jean received a lewd look. 

“Ooookay, we’re going.” Marco felt himself being pushed to the side as Jean got in between him and the outrageously drunk girl. He heard the blonde girl spewing apologies as they left.

“Sorry about that.” The other man whispered as he herded Marco into an almost empty room. It was a smaller room, but the people in there all seemed to be having just as rough a night as he was.

They both sat down against a wall, away from other people. Jean handed him a beer and a slice of pizza that looked like it’d seen better days. Marco just shrugged and ate it anyway, at this point just trying to quell his nerves. He struggled with the cap of the beer until it was wrenched out of his hands and opened in a second by Jean.

“Thanks..” Marco mumbled, taking the now open beer. He leaned back, not exactly eager to try another new thing today.

“You know, everyone gets it.” Jean suddenly said. When Marco looked over, the punk was glancing sidelong at him, also resting his head against the wall behind them. “At my first wild party, I was a wreck.”

“Really?” He asked, a little incredulously. It was hard to imagine Jean as anything but confident in any environment. 

The other man scoffed. “Yeah. I was like 15 years old, I think?” He took a long swig of beer. “Way too young to be there, that’s for sure. I was so eager to impress all the older kids that I pretended to be some experienced party animal.” Another scoff. “I’m sure they all knew I was just some brat way in over his head.”

Marco laughed, trying to imagine a Jean two to three years younger. It was a little hard, because they hardly ever saw each other in school back then.

“So what happened?” He was no longer leaning against the wall, but folding forward to lean against his bent knees. Jean had his full attention now.

“Hah, you’re gonna ask me to spill all my dirty secrets?” Another sidelong glance in his direction. Marco wondered why he’d never noticed how Jean’s eyes were almost a beautiful gold color.

Marco smiled. “Hey, I need an example of what not to do so I can make it through this night.”

Jean laughed loudly. “All right, I’ll tell you, because you’re actually a pretty cool dude, Marco.”

“Wow, thanks.” His reply was sarcastic, but a part of him was pleased that Jean approved of him, nerdy as he may be.

Another loud laugh. “Well, I was so nervous that I drank a shitload. Like a mega shitload. I’m talking like metric SHIT TONS- I think you get it, I got myself smashed beyond belief.” Jean drained the last of his beer, looking down at it disappointedly. “And yeah, I woke up the next day with a crazy hangover, covered in my own piss laying on top of Connie on the roof.”

Marco swears he had never laughed this much in his life. By the time he gained control of himself, his sides hurt and his face muscles felt like they stretched too much.

“Yeah, yeah. Yuck it up, Bodt.” Jean laughed, producing another bottle of beer from lord knows where. “You’re just lucky I’m here to keep you from making those rookie mistakes.”

“Yeah, because I’d definitely be here without you.”

“What is with all the sarcasm today? I can’t catch a fucking break around here, what the hell.” Marco laughed, watching as he took another long swig of beer.

He suddenly remembered the lone beer in his grip that he hadn’t bothered touching. Feeling a bit more confident from Jean’s confession, he swung it back and took his first ever sip of beer.

And promptly spat it back out. “What the hell is that?!”

“It’s beer, what did you think?! Also did you just swear or-”

Marco turned to look incredulously at Jean. “That tasted so bad!”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Of course it does, no one actually  _ likes _ PBR. It’s cheap and you can get a good buzz if you drink enough.”

Marco scrunched up his face, eyeing the bottle with doubt.

“Protip: just drink it fast enough that you don’t even taste it.” Jean nodded and threw back his beer, chugging a good amount.

He continued making a face but followed the advice anyway. Marco threw back the bottle and before he knew it, the disgusting liquid inside was half gone. “Huh. Guess that wasn’t completely unbearable.”

“That’s the spirit, man! You’ll be the life of the party in no time.” 

“Yeah right, hiding away in a room isn’t exactly party material.” Marco sighed, taking another swig of beer, less of it this time. “Sorry I’m making you hide in this room when you could be having a good time.”

He felt Jean’s hand shove his head forward playfully. “You’re not making me do anything. I’m in this room because I want to be.” Jean avoided his gaze. “Plus, who said I’m not having a good time?”

Marco didn’t say anything to that, but those words coming from Jean meant a lot. He had a feeling that even if this whole deal didn’t work out, they could still be friends after. Yeah, he could be friends with the punk guy from his Bio class that he was currently fake dating. All complications aside, he actually kind of enjoyed Jean’s presence.

Before he knew it, the bottle was already empty. He didn’t feel much, maybe a bit hotter, a little lighter. All in all, Marco thought drinking alcohol would be much different. He relayed this information to Jean, who immediately launched himself off the ground.

“We gotta change that! C’mon.” He hauled Marco to his feet, keeping him close by for the journey back to the kitchen.

There were less couples making out and more relaxing while eating junk food this time. The perverted drunk girl and her girlfriend were nowhere to be seen.

“Hmm, how about some angry balls?” Jean was asking him, cocking a pierced eyebrow at him.

“Excuse me?” Marco placed his bottle in a bin with a billion other empty ones.

The other man just snorted. “It’s good, it’s just some angry orchard plus fireball.” He explained as he poured amber liquid into even more amber liquid. “You’ll like it.”

Jean presented the cup to Marco, a smile on his face. While he was busy making another one, he sniffed the drink in interest.

Not too offensive. He took a tentative sip and was pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t apple juice, that’s for sure, but it had flavors of apple and cinnamon in it. It definitely wasn’t bad.

“Like it?” Jean asked, now brandishing his own.

“Yeah, actually.” He admitted, taking another sip. The drink was starting to make him feel warmer.

“Knew it. No one can resist a good angry balls.” At this point, Marco was sure Jean just wanted an excuse to say the name.

Jean looked like he was about to say something else until Ymir stumbled into the room, the liquid in her cup sloshing wildly.

“Ymir, Historia is gonna get mad at you if you get too smashed, ya know.”

Marco watched as the drunk girl leaned against the counter next to them.

“I fucking know, you idiot. I’m drinking water cause she yelled at me.” She glared down at her cup in distaste. It didn’t last, as it was quickly replaced with a mischievous expression. “That’s about to change, though. The party is simmering down a bit, so Connie decided that it’s time to play some kings. Bring your boyfriend or be fucking lame.”

The two just watched as Ymir hobbled out of the room, water and rum in hand. 

“You wanna play? It won’t be as wild, this is usually when losers bail, weaklings pass out, and all that’s left is me and my friends.” Jean shrugged. “It’s up to you man.”

“Hmm, I’ve never played this game before, so maybe I’ll just watch…” Marco cringed slightly, trying to get across how sorry he was for being lame.

The punk just smiled and shrugged. “It’s alright, just say something if you wanna join in.” 

Jean pushed off from the counter and made his way into a larger room that had some dusty old furniture in it. There were several people lying about in varying states of consciousness, the so-called ‘weaklings’, Marco guessed. He followed Jean to an old loveseat and sat down next to him. A couple people called greetings to them, but Marco let Jean answer. Honestly, he didn’t know what to say and he wasn’t sure how many of the people here knew him or even noticed him walk in the room.

Marco surveyed the place as Jean pointed out and named his friends. On the floor next to the loveseat was a very tall, lanky looking guy named Bertholdt. He was dressed like a member of some band that he knew Eren liked listening to. Something about boys falling or whatever. 

Leaning against the couch next to him was a very small, blonde girl named Annie that he’d seen talking to Mikasa before. Many colorful tattoos were easily visible now that she was wearing a ripped and faded tank top instead of the usual white hoodie. 

On the couch behind her sat someone who was well known anywhere you went in Trost High School. Her name was Sasha Braus and she was very loud, very artsy, and very friendly. At school she designed the sets for all the plays, but outside of school she was the one drawing all the gorgeous graffiti around town. Marco had never really talked to her much before, but she was always nice to him.

Next to her was the guy throwing the party, Connie, who was dating Sasha as Jean told him. He was your average skater, just with more punk influences, probably from his best bro for life and ever after. Marco was promptly informed that that was Jean. 

Sitting on the couch opposite was Ymir, who Marco knew enough about already thank you very much, and her girlfriend Historia. While Ymir had more of a grunge style, Historia was the definition of ‘cutesy’. They were a very weird, but very adorable couple when Ymir wasn’t being well...Ymir.

“Hmm, there’s one missing. Where the fuck is that guy?” Jean scanned the room, probably inspecting the various lifeless bodies of the extremely smashed.

“AYOOO, LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!” Marco was pushed aside and squished into Jean as a wall of pure muscle came crashing down next to him.

Squeezing onto the overcrowded loveseat was none other than the Trost High School football team’s star quarterback, Reiner Braun. In his arms was a variety of alcohol and sodas.

“Time to get fucking turnt!” He yelled, way too hype for playing a game that didn’t involve any sports. Connie, Sasha, and Ymir were the only one to cheer along wildly, waving their cups in the air.

“Ymir, that’s fucking water!”

“Shut it, Springer!” The cup, water and all, was thrown at his face. Connie just took it in stride, laughing as he fell back onto the couch he had been previously jumping on.

Jean coughed so lightly that only Marco could hear. When he turned to look at the punk, they were so uncomfortably close that he almost stopped breathing altogether.

Jean looked unfazed as he leaned in slightly. “You might wanna know that probably more than one person here took a hit or two off the ol’ blunt.”

“The ol’ what?” Marco asked after he got his breathing in check.

“Fucking--!! They smoked pot.” Jean sighed, looking defeated.

“Ohh!!” He turned around to survey the scene with that new knowledge in mind. Sasha was shuffling a deck of cards on the table while Connie shook the water off himself like a dog. Ymir was sulking on the other corner of the couch. Historia looked completely unfazed with a smile on her face, and Marco found himself wondering exactly how much pot she’d smoked tonight.

He didn’t have much time to ponder it as a beefy arm closed around his shoulders.

“Who do we have here? A newcomer?” Reiner asked in a booming voice, looking down at him happily like he wasn’t at this exact moment invading a complete stranger's personal space. “Wait, I’ve seen your face before…”

“Uh, yeah. This is my boyfriend, Marco.” Jean quickly explained before he could even think to speak. 

“Hey Marco.” Everyone recited in complete unison, like they were expecting him to speak next at their alcoholics anonymous meeting. It was all very strange and ironic.

“Yeah, he’s new to all this, so he’ll be sitting out the first round.” 

No one seemed like they were about to argue, so Marco just allowed himself to quietly withdraw from the center of attention.

“Alright, who’s ready for some KIIIIIIIIINGS.” Sasha bellowed, brandishing the properly shuffled cards in the air.

“Just start the game Sash, I wanna fucking forget who I am already!”

“Don’t you think you have a problem, Ymir-”

“Don’t care, Braun!”

Sasha slapped the cards down on the tabled. “ALRIGHT HERE WE GO!”

How anyone slept through this was beyond Marco. He wasn’t even playing and he felt the anticipation rising.

Sasha slapped the first card in the deck over. “Seven!!”

Immediately, everyone's hands shot up.

“Ah, fuck!” He heard from beside him. Jean was drinking out of his cup when he looked up. “No fucking fair, my hand was squished between me and Marco.”

“No one likes a fucking whiner, Kirschtein!”

A sloppy middle finger was aimed at Ymir.

“Seven means ‘Heaven’. Gotta raise your hands to the heavens.” Jean explained. “Slowest person drinks.”

Connie was already flipping another card. “Nine.” He immediately started scratching his chin in thought.

While he was thinking, Jean turned to him. “Gotta rhyme.”

“Ahah!” Connie grinned. “Dick!”

“All that thinking for ‘dick’, are you kidding m-!!”

“Lick.” Historia interrupted.

“Sick!”

“Nick...”

“Wick.”

“Fi- uuhh.”

“Reiner, drink!”

The blonde man next to Marco groaned and took a drink.

“Fick?” Annie inquired looking up from where she was sitting.

“You know what, I don’t need to be judged by you people.” An out of place pout appeared on the muscled man’s lips.

Historia cleared her throat and overturned a card. “Three!” She said in a light voice and just shrugged. “Me!” She throws one back happily.

“Damn, the chance of the next one being a three really isn’t good.” Ymir grumbled, but bent forward to pick a card anyway.

“KIIIING!!!”

In that moment, Marco swore that all hell broke lose. Next to him he heard, “GOD FUCKING DAMMIT” and “WHY HER?!” Connie was trying to roll on the floor away from the couch in a fit of agony, while Sasha was blocking out the entire room with the palms of her hands. Bertholdt- well he was just sweating a lot and looking generally very nervous. The only people who seemed unaffected were Annie and Historia.

“Alright bitches, here’s what's gonna go down. Anyone who talks to me or Historia has to say ‘Your Majesty’ every time! If you don’t, you gotta drink!” Ymir followed the statement with a heavy swig of her drink and then slammed the cup onto the table. “It’s fucking law!”

Only silence followed as everyone thought about how they could manage to ignore the two until the next king was drawn.

Connie rolled back onto the scene. “NEXT!” He yelled.

Annie picked a card. “Six.” Annie, Historia, Sasha, and Ymir all drank.

“Six is chicks.” Jean muttered. The game was significantly less loud now that everyone was trying to avoid an interaction with Ymir and Historia. 

Bertholdt took a card gently. “Four.” Annie and Bertholdt calmly placed their palms to the ground while everyone else was jumping out of their seats. Marco became dislodged from the seat as both Reiner and Jean jumped to the floor. He looked up to see Ymir and Historia also touching the floor, with Sasha following quickly behind. The last was Connie, who fell face first off the couch.

“The rule is to touch the floor with your hand, Springer! Not your fucking face!”

“Can it, Ymir!” The poor bald guy yelled, struggling up from the floor.

“What was that?”

“Shut up, your fucking Majesty!” Everyone returned to their seats and watched as Connie took two big gulps of his drink.

Reiner’s laughter bellowed loudly. “My turn!” He grinned and turned a card over. “Ace!!! Waterfall it, motherfuckers!”

The blonde threw his head back to drink and immediately to his left Jean also did the same. And so it went around the room until everyone was drinking at once. Marco just watched in curiosity and horror.

Reiner threw his cup down, having finished the whole thing. Jean finished his drink right after, swallowing what looked like a painful amount of alcohol and soda. Going down the line, they all stopped drinking one by one. The end result was a lot of heavy breathing and disgusted groans.

The game was put on hold for a couple minutes as everyone refilled their drinks. Marco realized that he hadn’t even been drinking his this whole time. He took a couple sips, glancing over at Jean who was letting Connie refill his cup with Coke and an absurd amount of rum.

Jean sighed, leaning back once Connie was done. “So whaddaya say, Marco?” He grinned. “You wanna join in? Nows your last change before next round.”

Marco surveyed the other people who were all in various states of tipsy and drunk, laughing at what seemed like nothing and everything. This wasn’t...a bad experience. Sure, he just met these people, but he felt like he could trust them...Maybe.

“You know what, sure. I’ll do it.”

“Atta boy!! Now drink up, you have some catching up to do.”Jean forced him to chug the cup of angry balls to get him on a somewhat even playing field.

Connie wandered over, shooting Marco a casual thumbs up. “Nice man.” He put something or other in Marco’s cup. It tasted faintly of soda, but mostly like something foreign that Jean told him was the rum.

Everyone settled down, falling back into more or less the same positions.

“GO FOR IT, MARCO!!” Connie screamed. Him and Sasha started started hooting and hollering at him, probably trying to hype him up just to flip a card.

“Good luck…” Bertholdt said, barely heard over the yelling.

“I believe in you, man!” Jean was saying next to him.

Marco laughed, shaking his head. He leaned forward, flipping over the top card on the pile to reveal: “Jack…”

Silence.

Sasha and Connie grinned at him wickedly. Ymir was looking pleased, while Bertholdt just looked more nervous, if possible. Reiner began laughing so hard Marco couldn’t hear himself think. Annie just sighed like it was a minor inconvenience at best. Historia...well she’s still smiling. 

Marco turned to look at Jean, who was smirking all cocky-like. It made nerves shoot throughout his whole body.

“Never have I ever.”

“Uhmm…”

“Time to get fucking personal.” Ymir laughed.

“Please explain.” Marco pleaded, somehow already regretting his decision to join in.

“Here’s the rules.” Annie started, looking directly at him. “Each player puts up three fingers. Starting with you, the person who drew the card, everyone says a ‘never have I ever- blank’. If you’ve done what the person says, put a finger down. First person with three fingers down drinks.”

Marco took this all in, thinking that he wasn’t cut out for games like this. But he guessed he had an advantage in that he doesn’t have much life experience.

Everyone was waiting for him to start.

“Uhm, well...Never have I ever…” His mind scrambled for something to say. “...failed a test?”

A couple people groaned. Connie, Ymir, Reiner, and Sasha were his victims. Surprisingly Jean kept three fingers up.

Jean coughed. “Never have I ever…” A wicked grin was directed across the room. “...masturbated at a sleepover.”

“Aw, c’mon man, no fair!” Connie already had two fingers down.

“I refuse to let you win, Springer!” Ymir bellowed, also putting down a finger.

“Holy shit!” Jean laughed. “Thought I’d only get one with that.”

Connie grumbled, glaring at Jean. “Well, never have I ever peed my fucking pants over the age of ten!”

“Ah, fuck.” Jean put down a finger and surprisingly so did Reiner while everyone laughed at their misery.

Sasha grinned. “Never have I ever…” She looked slyly over at Jean. “Never have I ever called a teacher ‘mom’ on accident!”

“God damn both of you!” He put down another finger.

Marco laughed into his hand. “Mom?”

“Shut up. I was seven!”

Connie, Ymir, Jean, and Reiner were all on the edge of their seats, being the only four at risk of losing.

Historia giggled. “Hmm, never have I ever...cursed.”

“Fucking really?!”

All four took a good, long drink from their cups.

“That was a fucking vicious one guys, props to you all for not having morals.”

“Like you’re one to talk, Your Majesty.” Jean scoffed. He then leaned forward to flip over the next card.

“Eight. I need a drinking mate.” Jean wasted no time in leering over at Marco. “Care to be my mate for tonight?”

“Ew!”

“Gross!”

“Get a room, ya nasty!”

Jean flipped the bird at everyone. Maybe if there wasn’t a questionable amount of alcohol in his system, he would’ve felt weird. But he didn’t. He just laughed and nodded as Jean put his cup up.

“Cheers, freckles!”

“Cheers!”

They both downed a good amount of alcohol.

In all honesty, he’d never had this amount of fun. Marco never knew he could. He felt light and free, like he never had before. Albeit that may be the alcohol talking, but he really was enjoying himself and he had a feeling that wouldn’t change if he were sober.

 

* * *

 

The next thing Marco knew, he was awake. And he wished he wasn’t. Pained shot through his head as he pushed himself up. Before him was a room that looked like an aftermath of a murder, except without the blood. The others from last night were sprawled in all sorts of uncomfortable positions, probably having passed out there hours ago.

The last thing he remembered was Jean drawing a king and ordering everyone to refer to him as ‘the coolest fucking guy who ever existed’. Let’s just say everyone got a lot of drinking out of that one.

He slightly remembered someone puking. Probably Ymir. 

Marco heard another groan closeby. Too close. Like right above his ear close.

He jumped back, almost falling off the couch. He was saved by grabbing a really narrow section of the seat and holding on.

It felt kind of weird...He squeezed the couch. It was made of rough black material, like denim. He didn’t remember this couch being black…

“Yes, that’d be my leg your sensually squeezing…”

Jean’s tired voice definitely made him fall off the couch this time. 

“Ughh, what the hell happened?” Marco grumbled, trying to still his pounding head. Not only had he gotten super drunk, but apparently he’d fallen asleep on his fake boyfriends lap. 

It was a red letter day for him. No, scratch that, a red letter week.

“Marco...Ya got drunk.” Jean mumbled. “I’m proud of you, man.”

“Yeah, me too man.” Reiner groaned somewhere from his right. “High five.” Marco felt a hand feebling smacking his.

“...Thanks, I think.” Marco lifted himself up onto his elbows. If this was the consequence of getting drunk, he wasn’t sure he liked it. Sure, it was fun while it was happening, but now he was just uncomfortable. And he had to pee badly.

Climbing slowly to his feet, Marco glanced around the room. He tiptoed his way through the bodies and made his way to the bathroom.

When he came out more people were stirring, blinking their eyes open against the offensively bright sunlight. It was actually a beautiful day outside, but he couldn’t enjoy it, not when-

Marco’s heart almost stopped beating right there and then out of pure fear and anxiety.

His mom. He fumbled into his pocket for his phone, clicking the center button over and over again.

Nothing happened. 

“Shhi- Crap!” He almost swore. Being the responsible boy he was, his phone had never been out of battery. What if there was an emergency and he was stuck with a dead phone? It was always best to keep it charged.

This was definitely a red letter week for him.

“What’s up?” Jean asked, coming out of the bathroom, having hurried in after he’d come out.

“Phone died. My mom’s probably noticed I’m gone by now. She’s gonna kill me. Oh my god, I’m gonna die.”

“Hey, hey,” Jean shushed him, taking the phone gently from his hand. “No one's killing anybody, it’s gonna be alright. Just breathe.”

Marco did as he said and concentrated on breathing slower. The panic subsided, but uneasiness still remained. He knew how his mother could be, and what followed could only be bad.

“Follow me.” Jean ordered, taking hold of Marco’s wrist. For some reason that seemed to ground him, like Jean was his lifeline to reality and reason. He ended up waddling behind him, like a toddler in tow.

The punk led them to the kitchen, where he took some pain reliever out of the cabinet and two water bottles out of the fridge. He gave Marco two pills and a bottle.

“Take this and drink this. All of it.”

He just nodded dumbly as he swallowed the pills and chugged half the water. Jean was already leading him in another direction, periodically taking sips of his own water.

Before Marco knew it, he was upstairs in a hallway that was completely unfamiliar to him. Jean opened a room confidently and ushered Marco inside.

Inside was a mess so big, he had trouble believe everything fit inside one small space. Posters lined the walls, taped on haphazardly. Most were of various skateboarders, but Marco noticed some anime pictures as well.

“Is...this Connie’s room?” He asked, nudging aside a small mountain of clothes with his foot.

“Yeah.” Jean answered simply, like they weren’t crossing some kind of personal boundary. He caught Marco’s look. “It’s okay, I’ve been in here loads of times.” 

By some miracle, Jean was able to find a phone charger in all this mess and hooked up the phone to an outlet. They both sat on Connie’s bed, staring down at the apple loading screen in anticipation.

Three horrible minutes went by until Marco’s phone was finally up and running. The first thing he saw when he unlocked it made his heart start racing again.

28 missed calls. He clicked on the scarily red number. Every single one was from his mom.

Jean gave a soft whistle beside him. “Your mom means business.”

“Yeah...Like I said, she’s gonna kill me.” The words came out of his mouth emotionless this time. After Jean had stopped him from freaking out, it hit him that this was exactly what he needed to hit the message home to his mother. She couldn’t control him anymore. He needed to get over his panic and get used to it.

Marco took a deep breath and smiled over at Jean, who looked slightly worried at the change of attitude. “To quote a wise man, ‘go big or go home’.”

A blazing smile cracked Jean’s face. He slapped Marco on the back. “‘Atta boy.”

* * *

 

Go home is exactly what he did right after, despite his new motto. Marco really didn’t put it past his mother to call the police and arrange a search party for him. Although he wanted to push the boundaries, getting the police involved is something he’d like to avoid.

Jean dropped him off down the street, and he waved goodbye, smiling genuinely at the other guy. He definitely had a new respect for Jean and all his friends after last night. They were actually nice people, despite his earlier impressions. 

Marco walked down the street, still nursing a killer headache. The whole neighborhood seemed so much more normal than it had yesterday, like his new experiences had changed his perspective of things. Or he was still a little drunk. Was that a thing, being drunk after sleeping for a while? Or was it just a hangover? 

His thoughts were rudely interrupted by a shriek.

“MARCO SALVATORE BODT.” He jumped, now noticing that his mother was bearing down on him, looking much older and more weary than he remembered.

“Hey, mom-”

“Don’t you ‘hey, mom’ me! Do you have any idea how worried I was!” She was approaching quickly and fear shot through him. What would she do? Would she hit him? He didn’t think she would, but he’s also never done anything like this in his entire life.

Marco tensed up as she neared and she...Threw her arms around him in a hug? This was not going how he expected.

“I’m so glad you’re okay…” His mom mumbled into his chest. She stepped back after a couple seconds, her state of fury reappearing. “Don’t ever do that again.” She grabbed Marco’s ear and pulled him inside the house by it.

“I’m sorry I made you worry mom.” And he was genuinely regretting that. He wasn’t in the least sorry that he’d gone to the party, but knowing that he made his mom cry...it kinda hurt.

Inside the house he was pushed into a chair in the kitchen and yelled at...A lot. He just sat there and took it, nodding every once and awhile.

He almost dozed off again, but quickly snapped to attention at the mention of Jean.

“-what’s gotten into you! I bet it’s that Kirchstein kid corrupting you-”

“No!” Marco exclaimed before he could stop himself. “Jean is the best thing that ever happened to me! I can be myself around him and he accepts me!”

Silence. Even Marco didn’t know how to follow that up. He felt his cheeks heat up for a reason he could not explain.

“I’ll be in my room.” He got up, pausing at the doorway. “Sorry, mom.” He kept going.

He locked the door and fell into a heap on his bed. Sighing loudly, he rubbed his temples to relieve the pain.

Did he really feel that way about Jean? When he thought of the other guy, a light feeling ignited in his stomach. It was an unfamiliar feeling that felt kind of like hope, but with a twinge of fear. Was it change he feared? He definitely wasn’t afraid of Jean.

Marco sighed again, rubbing his face in agony. He thought about Mikasa, Eren, and Armin, realizing he never felt that way with them. What was the difference? Had he just known them for too long?

He rolled over, trying to push all this feelings out of the way. Needless to say, it didn’t work. Marco kept thinking about it until he eventually fell asleep. Even in his dreams, Jean and Mikasa played center stage of his all too realistic nightmare.

* * *

 

The nightmare didn’t end even when he woke up. He checked his phone to find a bunch of texts from the one person he wanted to stop thinking about.

**From: Jean Kirchstein**

**so how bad was it.**

There was a ten minute gap between that and the next one.

**From: Jean Kirchstein**

**did she take ur phone? hmu on fb if so**

There was another gap, thirty minutes this time.

**From Jean Kirchstein:**

**holy shit did she actually kill you??? im not prepared for a funeral. i hope ur fam doesnt mind ripped jeans bcuz thts the only black i own**

The next time gap was two hours.

**From Jean Kirchstein:**

**ok now im a little worried, i hope i didnt get u in 2 much trouble.**

Two hours and ten minutes.

**From Jean Kirchstein:**

**ITS ALL MY FAULT IM SO SORRY, I WILL AVENGE UR DEATH.**

Marco reached the last text, sent one hour ago.

**From Jean Kirchstein:**

**We ll pour some pbr out 4 u next party. i know it was ur fav**

He couldn’t help but laugh, the conflicted feelings he had taking the backseat. Jean may be the cause of his current problems, but also the cause of his current happiness. What a strange guy he got himself involved with.

**To Jean Kirchstein:**

**Gross, at least poor some of the good stuff in my memory.**

**From Jean Kirchstein:**

**THANK GOD UR ALIVE. also thank god u have taste buds**

Marco laughed again, grinning down at his phone like an idiot.

**To Jean Kirchstein:**

**She was so mad. I feel really bad because I really worried her.**

**From Jean Kirchstein:**

**mothers will worry abt their kids. its just what happens man. at least ur not doing drugs or in a cult or smth**

**To Jean Kirchstein:**

**I guess you’re right.**

**From Jean Kirchstein:**

**ofc i am**

Marco scoffed at the message and then decided to brave leaving his room. Now that he’d been asleep for a couple hours, his headache was almost gone, but he was seriously hungry and dehydrated.

He shuffled into the kitchen, hoping that his mother would be nowhere in sight. No such luck. She was sitting at the table, looking something up on her computer. She only spared a glance at him as he entered.

Marco could live with that for now. He set about making scrambled eggs, because he was really too tired to do anything else.

After a while he could sense his mother's gaze on him, following his every move. This went on for five minutes as he made his food and and got his water. When he sat down at the table across from his mother, who was now blatantly staring at him.

“Marco, we need to talk.” His mom looked very grave, folding her hands in front of her like she was going to negotiate with him.

He just nodded, shovelling a bunch of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“I want us to go see a therapist.”

Marco choked on his food, sending him into a coughing fit. “Mom, I hardly think the  situation calls for that! I- I’m a teenager! We do stuff like sneak out and go to parties!” It took him a lot to say that, but he had finally convince himself, so now he had to work on convincing his mom.

“Yes, but  _ you  _ don’t!” She sounded a little sad. “At least you never used to! We obviously aren’t communicating, so I’d like us to go see a family counselor…”

Marco’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “Mom, I’ve been trying to tell you what's wrong but you won’t listen…”

His mom looked affronted, like he had just called her a bitch. “You’re going down a road I don’t want for you, honey. I can’t allow that.”

Marco rolled his eyes, but kept eating.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me!” And now she was suddenly mad again.

He sighed, picking up his plate and water and storming off to his room.

* * *

 

“Family counselor?” Jean said incredulously, making a face like he’d eaten something sour. “Every teenager rebels, I don’t know why your mom has a ten foot pole up her ass.”

Marco grimaced as they both sat down in their usual Bio class seats. “Thanks for the imagery…”

The punk barked a laugh, leaning over the table towards him. 

“I don’t know man, I don’t want to go.” He was afraid his mother would just try to morph him back into her obedient, off-white wearing child.

“Then don’t.” Jean said simply, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

“Just, don’t?” Marco asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, make yourself scarce when the appointment comes.” He shrugged. “You could come to my house. If you want.” 

Something about Jean’s tone made the statement seem vulnerable, like he was scared Marco would say no. Or like he was putting himself out there at the threat of rejection. 

Marco beamed at him. “Sure, that’d be great. Thanks.”

Jean smiled and it wasn’t his usual cocky smirk. It was one he’d never seen before, small and pure and happy.

Mikasa interrupted by sitting down next to him. He was happy that she did, because he wasn’t really sure what his heart was doing, but it was kind of alarming.

“Hey, Mikasa!” Jean said almost immediately. “How was your weekend?”

Marco felt a strange pang in his heart, Of course, right. Mikasa.

She swiveled around to face them both. “It was a little hectic, but thanks for asking.” A small smile graced her lips. “How was yours?” 

That cocky smirk was back again. “Mine was fucking fantastic, right Marco?” 

Marco gave Mikasa a sheepish smile. “He brought me to his friend’s party on Friday night.”

She looked surprised to say the least. “You, at a party? Did you have fun?”

“Yeah!” Marco replied immediately and honestly. “It’s always a great time with Jean and his friends. They’re hilarious. And really nice.”

However much it hurt his heart, he’d promised to put a good word in for Jean with Mikasa so he’d sell it the best he could.

Jean had a dopey smile on his face, like he couldn't believe this was happening.

“This wouldn’t happen to have been Connie’s party?” Mikasa asked, looking genuinely interested.

“Yeah, it was! How’d you know?” Was Connie so notorious that even people like Mikasa knew about his parties?

She smiled. “Annie was telling me about it.”

“You’re friends with Annie?” Jean asked, perking up instantly. “She’s a regular at Connie’s parties. You should come next time.”

“A-are you sure? Isn’t it rude to invite other people to someone’s party.” Marco laughed nervously. Mikasa seemed to agree with his point.

“Psh! It’s Connie. I could invite my own goddamn mother to his party, and he’d be down with it.” 

“I mean, if you think it’ll be all right, I’ll go.” Mikasa smiled. “Thank you, Jean.”

“Ay, yeah no problem and if you ever want-”

“Quiet down, children~” Dr. Hanji called in a sing-song voice from the front of the classroom. They all knew any further talking was pointless and turned towards the front.

Marco couldn’t focus on what Dr. Hanji was gesticulating about at the front of the classroom. His thoughts were on Jean, and the deal they’d made. Mikasa seemed to be warming up to him, but Marco would have to make more of an effort to put a good word in for Jean.

A bad feeling arose as his gaze slid to his friend. He couldn’t really picture Jean and Mikasa together. Sure, maybe they’d be friends if Mikasa got to know him, but as far as dating went…

If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t like the idea of them going out. But it wasn’t really his decision and he had his end of the deal to uphold. He immediately squashed back any negative feelings he had about it. Jean deserved to be happy, so he would try his hardest to help him.


End file.
